o that
Sirani woman! Who was she? He had never thought about that really. He
speculated for a while hazily upon things in general. She was a Sirani
woman--and ugly. He made a disdainful grimace, picked up the bedding,
and went about his work, slinging the hammock between two uprights of
the verandah. . . . Those things did not concern him. She was ugly,
and brought here by the Rajah Laut, and his master spoke to her in the
night. Very well. He, Ali, had his work to do. Sling the hammock--go
round and see that the watchmen were awake--take a look at the moorings
of the boats, at the padlock of the big storehouse--then go to sleep.
To sleep! He shivered pleasantly. He leaned with both arms over his
master's hammock and fell into a light doze.

A scream, unexpected, piercing--a scream beginning at once in the
highest pitch of a woman's voice and then cut short, so short that it
suggested the swift work of death--caused Ali to jump on one side
away from the hammock, and the silence that succeeded seemed to him
as startling as the awful shriek. He was thunderstruck with surprise.
Almayer came out of the office, leaving the door ajar, passed close
to his servant without taking any notice, and made straight for the
water-chatty hung on a nail in a draughty place. He took it down and
came back, missing the petrified Ali by an inch. He moved with long
strides, yet, notwithstanding his haste, stopped short before the door,
and, throwing his head back, poured a thin stream of water down his
throat. While he came and went, while he stopped to drink, while he did
all this, there came steadily from the dark room the sound of feeble and
persistent crying, the crying of a sleepy and frightened child. After he
had drunk, Almayer went in, closing the door carefully.

Ali did not budge. That Sirani woman shrieked! He felt an immense
curiosity very unusual to his stolid disposition. He could not take his
eyes off the door. Was she dead in there? How interesting and funny! He
stood with open mouth till he heard again the rattle of the door-handle.
Master coming out. He pivoted on his heels with great rapidity and made
believe to be absorbed in the contemplation of the night outside. He
heard Almayer moving about behind his back. Chairs were displaced. His
master sat down.

"Ali," said Almayer.

His face was gloomy and thoughtful. He looked at his head man, who
had approached the table, then he pulled out his watch. It was going.
Whenev